Free Come See About Me by C. K. Kelly Martin

weren’t
happy about the news of my move either. Probably the only thing that had
stopped my parents from planning a full-scale intervention was that I’d be
staying with Bastien’s aunt. Like with Yunhee, I’d offered my parents the
closest version of the truth that would suit my purpose, which was that I’d
only stopped working at the museum recently. That was enough information to put
them on edge, so I didn’t explain about flunking most of my classes. They
already knew that I didn’t plan to go back to school in the fall—there was no
point in upsetting them further.
    For once my
father had more to say than my mother. “I don’t understand why you’d want to
stay out east, doing nothing, rather than come home to be with your family. If
you’re depressed you need to see a doctor, not become a shut-in enabled by
Bastien’s aunt.”
    My first
instinct was to shout into the phone that Abigail was the only person who
remotely understood what I was going through. I caught myself just in time and
repeated, with a calm that channeled Oprah, what Abigail had said to me days
earlier: “People grieve differently. And maybe I need more time and space than
most people, but I don’t see why that automatically makes what I’m doing
wrong.”
    In the end I
promised my father I would go to a doctor if my depression worsened. I wasn’t
sure if I meant to it or not. My father asked for Abigail’s phone numbers (both
in Oakville and Vancouver) and said he and my mother would continue to call me
every few days after the move. “If you need to come home—anytime—let us know
and we’ll arrange a ticket,” he said.
    Meanwhile my mom
secretly wired me three hundred dollars to help with moving expenses and said
she’d try to send more the following month. I apologized to Mr. Magella, the
landlord, about the late moving notice and he said he was sorry too but he’d
have to keep our deposit. “If I find someone to rent the apartment soon I’ll
mail you a partial refund,” he said. “You were a good tenant—good tenants .”
He shook my hand, the sad puppy-dog look in his eyes making me look away.
    Etienne borrowed
a van from a friend and he, Yunhee and I hauled what was left of mine and
Bastien’s things to Oakville. Abigail was at work when we arrived but she’d
left keys for me in the mailbox along with a note that explained, “The spare
room (yours) is the first on the left upstairs. Anything that doesn’t fit there
can be stored in the back room or the garage, where there’s plenty of space.
I’ve cleared some of the kitchen cupboards for you too. Please make yourself at
home and I’ll see you later this evening. Welcome!”
    Yunhee and
Etienne stayed for about three hours, Yunhee helping me unpack in the spare
room and Etienne arranging boxes on the ground floor and in the garage. When
they were leaving Yunhee said, “Don’t be a stranger. There’s a train to Toronto
every hour. You can spend a day in the city and still be a hermit at night, you
know.”
    “I wish we could
stay longer,” Etienne told me. “But I should get the van back. Anytime you’re
going to be downtown, give me a shout and we can get together.”
    I thanked them
both, knowing that I hadn’t been much of a friend to either of them since
Bastien had died. I had no clue what was going on in their lives. Couldn’t
remember the last time Yunhee had mentioned fighting with her mother over the
phone or expressed an interest in the Mr. Fix-It tool-belt-wearing-with-a-hint-of-the-bad-boy about him type of guy that she usually lusted after. Etienne had always been much
more Bastien’s friend than mine but he’d been there for me whenever I needed
him. If I was better I’m sure there were a lot of things we could have said to
each other.
    Once Yunhee and Etienne
had gone I sat in my new room surrounded by three beige walls and a single
orange accent one (which matched the top half of the two-tone drapes covering
the window) and tried